The Puck Incident
by Haydron
Summary: Failing school was never part of Bella's plans, but then meeting Edward Cullen, the hostile boy blinded by a puck in front of his Jock friends wasn't either... But then hostile becomes rude. Rude becomes detached. And detached becomes attached. Oh my.
1. The Perfect Application

**1. The Perfect Application**

**.**

**.**

"Bella," my dad warned. "I don't understand who's more upset about your grades. You or me."

I had been pouring a bowl of cereal at the time, and as the comment smarted I acidentally started pouring the remainder of the cereal on top of my shoe. I couldn't help it. Whenever my dad attacked me like this, I was always at the most vulnerable. One time I'd been towel-drying my hair, and I'd dropped the towel when my dad had barged into my room after a short abrupt knock.

I didn't think to yell at him then. What if I had been indecent?

But since every person in the house had the foresight to dress in the bathroom before they exited, I don't think the thought even troubled him.

What _did _trouble him was the college prospectus that had been shoved through my front door by the mailman. Immediately seeing the word _Havard _printed across it, I went into a state of shock, where I stared at the magazine like it was a prancing guinea pig in a tutu. My dad didn't say anything. Instead he watched me tight-lippred, as my face paled and my breathing became shallower.

"What went wrong, Bella?" Charlie burst out, when it looked like I wasn't going to acknowledge him. "You were the best damn student in Forks until a week ago. What went wrong? Was it money? Sex? Drugs?"

My lower lip trembled as I realised it wasn't my father who was interrogating me, but the cop who had invaded his body. My dad had pulled up enough teenage delinquents, to know the main reasons why a child went offtrack. That made me want to cry harder. Because it was horrible to realise that these _punks_ who didn't even show up half the time, were getting the exact same grades as me on results day.

The only difference was that they were too stoned to even be unhappy about it.

Me on the otherhand? I bawled like a baby.

The tears didn't start on the day I got my results but the day after, when Charlie finally cornered me in the living room listlessly playing solitaire on my laptop. Even thought I kept losing, I found the furious way I clicked the cards in order to make a home straight strangely hypnotic, with the sole thought that if I won _once_ then everything will be okay. I would go to sleep, wake-up and relive the day again. But instead of getting a 2.0 grade average I would get the perfect 4.0.

But after my little nap, I was disappointed to jolt awake and fine Charlie staring right back at me. On the opposite settee.

I would've screamed if I hadn't felt so down-trodden.

"Had a nice nap?" Charlie asked, sounding inquistively polite. "Been spending the day playing card games, have we?"

It hurt to see my dad so polite when it was quite clear he wanted to be anything but. Shouting and screaming would've been better because then I would've expected it, but this-this was worse. No Ivy League school will touch me, let along a big empire college like Havard or Yale. What my grades had guaranteed me, was a future at some dead-end college, where the dregs of society ended up, before being coughed out at some bar to serve pina colada to every prick that comes their way.

The very idea of it, made me want to jump of the highest bridge around here.

So what, if it hadn't killed me. The mere action should be enough for someone to get their skates on, and cart me off to the nearest mental ward. But the idea of ending my life didn't sit too well with me. Up until now my life had been pretty darn peachy. Not a blip on my radar. And then in the course of a _dreadful _day, those non-existent blips became huge submarines threatening to drown me in sorrow.

How could I have messed up so bad?

"It must've been your friends," Charlie continued now. He slammed the carton of milk on the table. "They've been a bad influence!"

I guiltily thought of Lauren and Jessica, the so called _it _girls who had taken me under their wings three years ago. My grades had begun slipping then- but only from an A plus to a B minus which I manged to keep constant until about a year ago. And then I began getting the unmentionables (grades below a D) and I hid it from Charlie, even if it was the worst thing to do, because I always thought _I can bring my grade up. In the next test. Definitely._

And hence I got caught in a viscous cycle. There was always _The Hills _to watch with Jessica during our Free, or that all important documentary I had to catch after school. One documentary became three, with a movie edged in laceways to even it out. And then one day, became a week, and then a week, became a month and then by the time it reached a year, it was much too late.

So it wasn't Jessica and Lauren's fault really. _It was mine._

And I didn't know if that sucked more than realising if I'd stuck with Angela and Ben, I would be filling in my application for Harvard right now.

No-one else was to blame. _It was all me._

* * *

I was repeating the year.

Everytime I repeated myself to a former classmate or a new one, I felt my IQ dropping a few points. The looks my former classmates gave me ranged from pitying to genuinely upset they wouldn't see me in class. The latter was Angela, and I couldn't help but melt in her arms as she hugged me fiercely. "You'll do better the second time round," she whispered encouragingly and I loved her for it, even thought I believed it far from true.

The Junior and Senior assembly was a nightmare. All the Seniors sat in the back, but I couldn't join them because I felt too embarassed to show my face to them. Individually I could handle. As a jeering crowd, I could not.

Instead I sulked in with the other twelfth-graders, and acted like I was exactly their age and not a year older. It must've worked a little, because a gaggle of them sat next to me but didn't actually think to turn and include me in their conversation.

The curse of being a year older. It meant you never bothered with the small fry!

Back when I was superior to them and that shit.

"Girls," a voice said dramatically, hushing the obnoxious boys though they weren't being addressed. "_And _boys!" (Now they were!) "Welcome to a fresh start at Forks High. Are you all ready?"

I made a point not to answer that one.

"Last year was our best yet! A staggering 5_7_ percent of our current Seniors passed last year with a C-grade at least!" (A big cheer that did nothing but sour my mood came from the back) "But all you 12th-graders! Sitting in the front row! Don't you want to beat that statistic?" (Now a great chorus of boos met the cheers errupting from the front- one even went as far as braying _LOO-SERS!_)

I was bored with this speech already. I'd satten one just like it, the year previous. Oh what I wouldn't give to turn back the clock.

"There are so many opputunities that are available- that would look _great _in your application. So much volunteering work to do during the week-nights and ends. Of course the hours are flexible for your studies...but get _involved_! Be motivated!"

I was in the middle of writing it off when I caught myself, mid-stride. I froze, like the many times I'd done when my dad had walked stiffly by after results day, and thought _isn't this what I'd done last year? _Written everything off because it would cut into my alone time with the TV? Maybe this was a sign. Maybe I was meant to be here, facing the same decision I'd faced last time-except now I knew which path I had to take. It was written all so clearly.

I had to volunteer for something- _anything _preferably, where the hours were long and I could stay out of Charlie's hair as long as possible.

I had to find the perfect place where I could do my "service" and then find a hidey-hole where there was no gadget or gizmo in sight until I _forced _myself to take my work out and do it in boredom. I know. I know. I should be doing my schoolwork because I _enjoyed _it not because I "had" too- but reality was it was every bit the latter. I wanted a good job, but to get there I needed to put in hours and hours of work to make up for last year.

I needed to get the grades. The college. The perfect application.

I _needed_ that volunteering gig.

Even if it was only to save my future from a bar, serving pina colada to pricks.

**.**

**.**

* * *

**A/N: Please review. Especially since this issue is close to my heart! The story's not going to be about education though. Bella _will _get her GPA 4.0 by the end of this story, but more important than that... How did Bella acheive such a feat emotionally? Which boy did she become bonded to in particular? (Hint: Goes by EC, and he's bed-ridden most of the time)**


	2. Ice Hockey King

**2. Ice Hockey King**

**.**

**.**

"_Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!"_

The game was over.

_"Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!"_

But yet they were still chanting his name.

* * *

**-2 weeks later-**

"First ionisation energy," I muttered under my breath as I furiously scribbled down. "The energy required when one mole of electron is removed from one mole of gaseous atom from an element to form one mole of positively charged ion. _Under standard conditions." _I made sure to double line _standard conditions_ though for the life of me, I didn't know what they were. Room temp? A freaking freezer?

For the first time in ages, I had found a secluded spot in the hospital, to sit down and finish all my homework in. The only TV around this place, was in the private rooms hired by the more wealthy, and like hell they were going to let a 18-year-old watch TV with them.

So by default, exactly like I predicted, I wound up taking out my work and starting to complete it in the hospital canteen. Even though it was reluctantly.

"Bella?" a head poked round the door. "Mr Matthew's urine sample needs to be taken. Can you be a doll and get him to pee in this cup?" She waved the thing around like it was no big deal, but we both knew Vicky wanted to go home early.

I didn't.

So it was with even greater reluctance, that I put the pen down with a sigh and went to find Mr Matthew's to empty his bladder.

"I won't do it!" he said, childishly crossing his arms when I asked him. Not bad for a 57-year-old geezer. I knew I wouldn't get a drip out of him, if I continued gawking at him, so I pulled the curtain between us and waited patiently on the otherside. _Damn you, Vicky _I cursed as I heard Mr Matthew's urine gushing into the cup, _You got away scot-free. Again._

As I contemplated _how_I was going to collect the sample without any latex gloves, Dr Carlisle hurried past, shrugging on a winter coat. "My son's ice hockey game, you see," he explained when I asked if he was clocking off, "He's expecting me to be there. Shoot," he glanced at his watch with a grimace. "It's probably finished by now."

I imagined a wobbly-kneed eight year old, about to particpate in his first game, scanning the crowd to see if his father was there. Then I imagined the crest-fallen expression on his face as he realised his father was never going to show, and he had to settle for the sidelines, watching other team-mates get pampered like crazy by their loved ones. My heart immediately went out to this boy.

"Right then," I said, a little flustered. "You'd better get going. Don't worry about me, I'll hold down the fort."

My feeble joke sounded lame in my ears, but to give Dr Carlisle credit, he didn't act like I'd just made the the biggest gaff in the world. He just continued winding his scarf around his neck calmly and replied, like what I said made perfect sense. "I'm so pleased we chose you, Bella, out of all your other schoolmates. You've been really dedicated with your job and go out of your way to make the patients comfortable." He paused, "That's a sign of a good doctor, you know."

My mouth fell open and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

_Me? _A doctor? I don't think so. Didn't he know I was repeating a year?

"See you, Bella," he said breezily before sweeping out the double doors and like a breath of fresh air, I was replenished. Even if to collect a wee sample.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later and Dr Carlisle was back. "My pager beeped," he admitted when he saw me strewn over my work, with a questioning eyebrow. "A major car accident down by La Push. I can't let Dr Philips be the only viable consultant here so I had to re-route. Looks like I have to miss the game after all..." I was aghast. Dr Carlisle wouldn't be Dr Carlisle if he didn't have an enormous work ethic, but was he really going to leave his son stranded like that? Without anyone to take him home?

My question was answered a minute later.

"Edward?" Dr Carlisle said brusquely down the phone. "I'm sorry son, but it looks like you have to make your own way home. Give your mother a kiss from your old man, won't you? Circumstances call," and then cut the call as his pager beeped once more. "Shit," he swore. "There's a fatality, but two young men are still fighting for their life. _Where's Vicky?" _he roared as I jumped in my seat.

When Vicky didn't magically appear, Dr Carlisle swung his gaze on me. "Shit, shit, shit," he swore again. "She's just a schoolkid."

But then he clucked his teeth. "Well beggars can't be choosers, I guess. Bella, suit up. I need your help. I'm assuming Vicky's shirked enough of her responsibilities these past two weeks, for you to pick up all the essential opiates?"

I nodded once.

"Good," he said with some satisfaction. "Then give me any drug I ask you without any hiccups, please."

I shook my head.

"I don't think I-"

"_Don't think," _Dr Carlisle said forcefully. "Just _do."_

* * *

Non-surprisingly the fatality was someone I knew. Not intimately, but just enough to start shaking when his cold body was wheeled past, already in a body bag with a name tag on it.

_James Witherdale._

He was in my French Class back in seventh grade. I never really talked to him because he always seemed one of those boys who pinged a girls bra open or tried to look up her skirt when she wasn't looking. The hairiest moment I ever had with him, was when he called me a _lesbo _because I didn't want to talk to any other boy except Ben. _C'mon. _I was in seventh grade. Could you have expected any better?

But he was dead now, and I wasn't laughing like I promised I would all those years ago. In fact, I felt a tiny bit _sick. _Like, could this day get any worse?

Yup, yup and yup again.

"_JAKE?" _I incredulously yelled when the second boy was wheeled in, this time with twenty paramedics surrounding him (well, it felt like it) and his shirt ripped open in half as one of the paramedics did irregular compressions. He didn't respond back, and I was left gaping after the gurney as the third one came whizzing past. "_Seth?" _This was getting more and more bizarre. Jake was my bestest friend and Seth was his dearest cousin. They were decent boys. What the hell were they doing being wheeled into A&E when Jake had promised me, he'd pick me up after eight?

"Oh my god, _Billy!"_ I hyperventilated, before I realised I had no ride home. "_Charlie!"_

And then a second later..."Vicky?"

"JAMES!" Vicky bellowed, running as fast as her six inch heels would carry her.

"Bella?"

That was Dr Carlisle, emerging from his office and looking confused.

"ALRIGHT, STOP!" I yelled, not standing the pandemonium any longer and the silence reflected back at me was strangely eerie. Here, I had two people who mattered more than me in the world and all I could think about was banging their heads together. Dr Carlisle was pensively studying me as if he'd never seen me before, and Vicky was still sobbing her poor little heart out over some guy lying on a cold slab. My sympathy went out to her.

Although she could be a right slave-driver at times, this James clearly meant a lot to her and I had to respect that.

Scumbag or no.

"Look, Vicky," I said gently. "If it's the James I think you're after, you can visit him in a mo. But I have to tell you V, the news isn't looking so good. Dr Carlise," I turned to him, "I'd like to phone Charlie please, but until he gets here I'd only be too happy to assist. Clearly V isn't up to the job," I said placing a comforting (and not patronizing! I'll tell you why) hand on her shoulder. The moment I did so, I knew it was a mistake.

"You patronizing bitch!" she screamed. "Get your hands off me! And fuck you!" and she went running down the corridor, her red curls flying behind her like a dangerous _stop _sign.

Dr Carlisle, thankfully, didn't look like he was going to run away screaming either, but he didn't stop giving me that measured look that made my toes tingle.

"I phoned Billy," he said softly. "You know, Bella you don't-"

"I _want _to," I said weakly, and then more firmly, "_You need me."_

* * *

**- Earlier on in the day-**

"I don't need you," Edward had scoffed. "Look at me, dad. I'm not ten anymore. You don't need to lie to me about what a loser you are."

"Edward!" his father snapped impatiently, whilst trying to execute a left-hand manoeuvre. "Is that any way to speak to your elders?" The boy glared at him with jilted eyes, and he realised too late, that his son hated him.

"Respect my elders," Edward sneered, his lip curling in disgust. "That's a funny phrase. Made all the more funnier since I've never met a person who deserves my respect. Anyone spring into mind, dad?"

_"Edward-"_

"How many times do I have to tell you?" The boy exploded. "My name's not Edward! If you took your head out of your own arse for two seconds, you'd realise I fucking hate that name." He gave a bleak laugh that didn't reach his eyes or improve the atmosphere of the car. "I'm Eddie now. I'm a meathead. I play Ice Hockey and I made captain two years ago. I have an ex-girlfriend who bangs everything on two legs. I do sports because I don't want to end up like you. A scholar who's so scared of embracing his family, he holes up in work 24/7."

"You play Ice Hockey?" his father said with some surprise, doing what he did best. Attaching himself to the most irrevelent part of the story as if nothing else mattered. But it did. And Edward was having none of it.

"Yes, I do. I have a game tonight actually," he said through gritted teeth. "Bye."

He should never have accepted his father's heart-felt plea of catching a ride this morning. He had Emmett for this shit. And now look where it had landed him- his father on the verge of giving puppies and possibly a strange request to come watch him at a game.

_He was right._

"Don't make promises you can't keep," said Edward scornfully. "You've been doing that ever since I've been born. Sorry for the fucking inconvenience."

"Edward!" the reproachful tone was back in Carlisle's voice again, but after seeing Edward's murderous expression, he hastily amended, "I mean _Eddie._ I want to be there. I want to be up there, amongst the other proud fathers and boast, _"That's my son!" _I want it so much...You and your mother mean the world to me, Ed, and I couldn't stand it if I lost you over something petty like _not caring_. Because I do, Eddie. A lot. And I know I haven't always shown it in the most affluent of ways, but please...Give me one more chance?"

And then Edward did something stupid.

He nodded.

_._

_"Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!"_

The game wasn't over.

_"Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!"_

But yet they were still chanting his name.

Edward grimaced as the puck hurled at him with startling velocity, but he made a neat save and passed it safely onto Jasper, who was playing increasingly well, with Alice cheering on by the side. _"Whoo, Jasper! Yeaahh!" _At half-time, Emmett clapped his round the back and said, "So what about your old man? Did he put on a show?"

"Not yet," Edward said moodily, wiping off the trickle of water on his lower lip. When he jammed the helmet back on, the reflective sheen played tricks on his eyes and he saw a vision of a white doctor's coat and a stethoscope around its neck. And then time caught up with him.

"Edward! What are you doing!"

He wasn't in the locker room. He was in the middle of a three-hundred strong crowd staring into space, after he'd taken his helmet off to take a better look. He couldn't even remember how he got here, when clearly seconds before he's been lacing up his skates and trying not to think about how his father failed him. Again.

Many things seemed to happen at once. As the referee yelled, _"TIME OUT!" _after noticing Edward's lack of mobility and protection, the captain from the opposing team tackled him to the ice, whilst another team-mate aimed the recently dispossessed puck at Edward's head.

A slice of blade.

A dirty tackle.

And a well aimed puck was all it took for...

An explosion of blood.

**_._**

**_._**

* * *

**A/N: Just to be clear the entire chapter (even the stuff in italics!) takes place two weeks later. So it's not really a flashback you're reading. It's happening in "real time" Whatever that means! The biggest thank you to my first reviewer- RICIA-I did try to reply (to say the next chapter was coming soon, but whaddya know) but I couldn't because you'd blocked your PM thingy. No worries though. I can thank you here!**

**Reviews are absolutely vital to me. I need the love! Seriously. Especially since school's started back up again...**


	3. Appearances can be deceiving

**3. Appearances can be deceiving**

**.**

**.**

* * *

I was sitting by Jacob's side, when a loud wail came from Dr Carlisle's office. Since Dr Philips was still in surgery with Seth, and Vicky had been granted sick leave due to James Witherdale's death, I was the only one who was concious enough to run to Dr Carlisle's office and open the door without knocking.

"Dr Carlisle! Are you-"

I came to a stop, when I saw Dr Carlisle curled up on the floor and clutching his chest as if he'd had a heart attack. The phone was hanging off the hook, and even from here the panicked voice of a person could be heard, repeatedly calling Carlisle's name.

"Oh my god!"

In an instant I was by Dr Carlisle's side, putting a hand over his. He looked terrible. All the color had drained from his face, and he kept rocking back and forth crying out his son's name.

"Edward?" I asked confused, and looked at the phone still hanging of its hook. Understanding flooded me, as I lurched for it and asked urgently, "Edward. What's happened to Edward?" God, he was only a little boy and Carlisle had promised so much for him. If something had happened to Edward and Carlisle never had the chance to live out that promise...

It would kill him. For sure.

"Who's this?" came the suspicious tone.

"Nevermind that. What's happened to Edward?"

"He's been involved in a hockey accident ma'am. We're being re-routed to your hospital as we speak."

"Hurry."

I slammed the phone down with an urgency I couldn't fathom. After half-helping/ half-lifting Dr Carlisle into his chair and treating him for shock, I raced down from his office to the theaters where I knew Dr Philips was operating. I knew it was against protocol for a silly work-experience student to burst in like this, but if Edward was really coming here, then we had a bigger problem on our hands.

"Dr Phillips," I said urgently, through the screen dividing the observation desk and operating theater. "Please finish up as fast as you can. A new patient is coming in and we really need you on deck."

"Can't Dr Carlisle take him?" he asked, without even looking up from Seth's pulverised stomach and demanded for extra light.

"No, he really can't," I warbled as his intern set the overhead bulb at a higher voltage. "It's his son, you see, and I'm pretty sure hospital rules state doctors can't operate on their family members due to a conflict of interests."

Dr Phillips gave a weary nod. "Alright. Bring him straight here."

* * *

Somewhere in the middle of transference between ice rink to ambulance, Edward had regained consciousness and a bloody grin. "What a way to see my old man, eh?" he asked and Jasper shushed him as Edward began to grow more restless, finding the heavy brace around his neck too restricting. "Maybe he'll want to see me, now that I'm harrf-dead."

Jasper threw a panicked glance at the paramedic still doing irregular compressions on Edward's bare chest.

"He's delirious," she mouthed and shook her head. "Now is not the best time to believe everything he says."

By the time they got to the hospital in half the time, and all sirens blazing, Edward had passed out again as Jasper worriedly squeezed his hand. _His mother should be doing this shit, _he thought. _Or even his father. _There was no point asking Alice: because the moment she saw he brother's head exploding in a spray of red, she had passed out in Emmet's lap and Rosalie hadn't minded, due to the nature of the situation.

At last the day where Rosalie wasn't thinking about herself for once had come- and nobody was celebrating it. Edward's party trick had eclipsed that for sure.

Outside the hospital main doors, a girl whom he vaguely recognised was waiting for them, her pale skin shone brightly in the moonlight and her brown hair danced around her shoulders like silk. "Come inside! Inside!" she urged as she waved the paramedics leaping out of the back of the ambulance in. Next came Edward, carefully unjostled and his face now hidden under an oxygen mask.

He looked like a little boy, with bronze hair peeking out but anybody with two eyes could tell he was anything _but _a boy.

"Oh!" The girl gave a surprised hiccup, as she studied his friend closely. "Is this Edward?" She looked startled as if she had been expecting someone else entirely- but remembering herself, rushed to Edward's side and held his hand in both of her own. Her eyes were tender as she gazed down at Edward, and Jasper began to wonder if there was history between the two. It would be just like Edward to fuck a girl like this, and leave her to dwell on their sanctimonious coupling.

She swept a stray curl from Edward's face and Jasper's fear was confirmed.

This chick was going to go _crazy _when she found out Edward was a player.

* * *

So Edward Cullen was a little older than I expected, but he didn't look any less cute passed out. He kind of looked like he was _vulnerable_, and I got this weird pressure in my chest to hold his hand inbetween my own in a weak form of comfort.

It didn't help, he gave a small groan through his mask and slowly wrapped his fingers around my hand. His hand swallowed my own, and I couldn't swallow the lump in my throat as he cried out weakly in pain. Edward Cullen was...gorgeous. And he clearly needed the attention of a qualified doctor that wasn't Dr Carlisle.

Funnily enough, he was the first person we ran into as we rushed down the corridors flooded with sterilized light. Charlie was due anytime now, but I didn't trust Dr Carlise enough to let him guide the paramedics to the theater Dr Philips was operating in. I was convinced the moment I half-turned my back, he'd make a mad rush to a ward with his son and lock all the doors to it whilst he played out the role of a mad scientist, and his son, the latest lab experiment.

I know it was horrible thing to say, but grief is one of those funny emotions, that can make even the sanest of people _switch._

Maybe if I had known the grief Edward Cullen would cause me later on, I wouldn't have been so thoughtful, but there and then all I could think about was letting this sweet boy _live. _I could see he was coming too as we neared the theaters, so I turned around to run backwards incase he was worried and needed reassurance. His green eyes were open and he stared unseeingly as the ceiling flew above him.

I was surprised he could open his eyes at all- considering they were swollen beyond belief.

The grip on my hand tightened almost excruciatingly.

"Who's there?" he demanded, and the paramedics shot concerned looks over his head. His father, who had attached himself by his son's bed the moment he was wheeled in, leaned in close. "It's alright, Eddie," Dr Carlisle whispered. "I'm here."

"I can't see you." Edward slurred. "_Why can't I see?"_

"Y-You can't see?" Dr Carlisle whimpered and let out such a roar of pain and animilistic fury, Charlie later said he'd heard nothing like it as he parked in the hospital car park.

**.**

**.**

* * *

**The **

**Next**

**Chapter**

**Will**

**Be **

**...Longer!**

**And it better be, because that's where Edward and Bella "officially" meet. Please don't be fooled by how sweet Bella finds Edward now. Because like the summary says- he is gonna give her hell!**

**Review if you love longer chapterz ;)**


	4. Hand to hip, Hand to thigh

**4. Hand to hip, Hand to thigh**

**.**

**.**

"Dr Cullen?"

Carlisle looked up.

"He's awake."

At once,relief was apparent as Carlisle exhaled and dropped his head in-between his hands. "Oh, thank god," he breathed, feeling his five o'clock shadow rub against his palms and wrists. Earlier in the night, a nurse had come out to tell him to go home, get rest and grab a coffee. She didn't exactly tell him to get a shower, but it was implied as her eyes piteously ran down his crumpled shirt and slacks.

Two hours they had been operating on him. It took another two to finish patching him up, and bring him round.

Those combined four hours were the most torturous a parent could go through. Many times he had been on the other end of the spectroscope, delivering the happy news or unhappy news to a grieved close one and watch as they fell apart, or thanked him and the entire medical profession, profusely. He had followed their journey with him, feeling pain or joy as the ride came to an end. But he had always been the passenger- just the person forced to come along on the ride because of his medical badge.

It was wonderful what that badge could do- a passport between life and death itself.

But now, to be in the driver seat itself, was certainly disarming. He was the mothership, but yet he had no control over whether his son lived or died. There was no brakes on this god-damn thing, and Carlisle wondered how long he could stay so calm until he _snapped._

"Can I see him?"

The nurse hesitated.

"I'm afraid, he doesn't want to see you sir. He's willing to see his sister or even his mother...but not you. His words."

"_See?" _Carlisle kicked the chair he had just unfolded himself from, crashing it into the opposite wall. "SEE? He's blind for god's sake! He wouldn't even know if I slip inside and-"

"Dr Carlisle," the nurse warned. "Don't make me call security. You're a senior consultant here, and the last thing I want is too see my colleague kicked out off his own hospital. You. Need. To. Respect. Your. Son's. Wishes."

"I'm not a bad father." Carlisle suddenly spoke up, startling the nurse enough to look up and meet his eye. She looked quizzical. "Everyone here must think I'm a bad parent, when my own son can't even stand to be _near _me-"

As the first rays of sunshine leaped through the hospital blinds, Carlisle saw a familiar brown head duck into Jacob Black's room. He hadn't realised time had flown by so fast, but as Isabella Swan disappeared through the door, he realized she was making an early morning visit to her...boyfriend, was it? She looked refreshed and cheery, carrying a large bouquet of pansies into Black's room whilst Carlisle was still wearing the same aftershave he slapped on yesterday morning.

She had been his rock yesterday and if it hadn't been for her...Carlisle would've dreaded to think what could've happened. Carlisle still curled up on the floor? The ambulance crew outside the hospital without anyone to direct them, until a few paramedics started wondering the halls? What would've happened to Edward? With half his saviors on walkabout and the other half trying to get him stabilized...

Could Bella be his last hope?

* * *

"I know you really don't like flowers," I trilled, the moment I stepped foot inside. "But I got you some pansies in order to cheer this room up. Can you talk about depressing?"

Grateful Billy was honorable enough to set his son up in a Private Room, I opened the windows looking out into the street and let the chorus of bird song and exhaust fumes dance around the room. I took a deep breath, still by the window, and enjoyed the sun warming my face and the lingering night breeze chase the goosebumps on Jake's forehead away.

Speaking of Jake, I drew up a chair beside his bed and put my hand over his brow.

"You're my bestest friend, Jake," I said fiercely. "And I need you to get better for me, okay? There's so much life experiences we have to share: like going to Prom, graduating high school and loosing our V-cards. Of course none with each other, since I'm older than you but I'd like to think we're mature enough to talk about it. Oh gawd, I love you, Jake. And I'm sorry I can be such a demanding bitch at times but-"

Someone was watching me, I knew it.

Patting Jacob's head awkwardly, I twisted around so I could plant a kiss on Jacob's cheek and see who it was at the same time.

It was Carlisle.

Phew!

No, not phew! What had he heard? How long had he been standing there?

When he caught me staring at him, my lips still lingering on Jacob's cheek, he cleared his throat and stepped inside the room looking rather worse for wear. Rats. What was I thinking? Of course clothes would be the last thing in his mind after finding out his son was completely blind. I hoped he was seeing the bright side of things though, like I was with Jake here.

Because I had it all planned- one day in the future, let's call it's sunny, Jake would open his eyes and see me there for him. He would quickly regain motor function and soon would walking around as if he'd never been in a coma in the first place. A little optimistic, I know- but maybe Carlisle needed a little optimism. Sure the nurses were there to remind him of the worse case scenarios- but maybe I can remind him of the best?

To never lose hope.

And maybe one day Edward would be able to see again, regain his sight as his injuries healed and time passed. You couldn't say it _wasn't _a possibility, right?

"How's Edward?" I asked, when it looked like Carlisle was too worked up to talk.

"He's refusing to see me."

I cracked a smile.

"Is he trying to be ironic?"

"That would be my son."

My grin wavered at Carlisle's unapologetic tone. Not that it _needed _to be apologetic, but he didn't sound like his cool, calm self either. Was that frustration I detected? And maybe a little pain? For as long as I known him, Carlisle was the man with the answers, the closest thing to God in terms of who lived and died. When you picture someone so omnipresent, you always see him as unflappable, you know?

Like nothing can make him think twice.

But there was something going on between Carlisle and Edward, and I just didn't know _what._

I felt tempted to play the role of a therapist, just so I could get Carlisle to open up and spill all his family drama. But one look at Jake's face, still warm under my fingertips, and I knew my heart and mind weren't prepared for what he had to say, when I still dreamt of happy endings for Jake and Edward. Anyone would tell me I was a fool. _If you're so determined to make this about fairytales, _they'd say, _Jake is sleeping beauty with undetermined brain damage and Edward is three blind mice destined to end up dead anyway._

"Can I visit him?"

Wait- who's saying that? Why do they sound so scared? Is Carisle...NODDING?

The things my big mouth lands me in.

_Right, _my mind was racing, _it doesn't matter if there's a chasm the size of a black hole inbetween them, all I have to do is go check, and tell father his son is looking good. Even if he's not. It's the least he deserves..._

With that in mind, I got up from the chair and plucked three pansies from the bouquet I brought Jake. Ah well. It's not like he'd mind. The pansies were a scarlet magenta and smelled heavenly when I brought them to my nose and sniffed appreciatively. "Thank you, Bella," Carlisle was saying, "I would appreciate it very much. If Edward...seems...seems...alright, then I'll gladly go home and take a shower. His sister and mother will visit him in the afternoon...and I..."

I walked towards him and the door, and paused to give a symphatetic smile and place a hand on his shoulder.

It wasn't meant to be comforting...I just wanted him to stop.

To stop torturing himself and most of all...to stop torturing me.

Great, so now on top of demanding, I'm a selfish bitch too. Can this day get any better?

The pansies started wilting in my hand as I walked down the corridor towards the room where all the nurses were congregating outside. Each and every one of them looked hassled, when one of them spotted me and rudely demanded me to get off the ward because there was still 45 minutes to go until visiting hours. I shook the pansies like a magic lamp, and made up some bullshit excuse on the spot.

And _voila! _I was in. Like a genie apparating out of a bottle, I opened the door marked _Edward Cullen, undergoing assessment _and slithered in. So relieved was I about not being figured out, I totally forgot there was an entirely other person I had to convince before my mission was complete.

"Who's there?"

Edward Cullen was sitting bolt upright in his bed. No scratch that, there was pillows stacked behind him to make him sit like that. His hair was delightfully messy as ever, and his lips ridiculously kissable considering they were so scratched up but the biggest change was two swabs stuck to his eyes, and then held in place by a long string of bandage lassoed around his head.

I exhaled slowly.

Immediately his head swung to the right, and his hands searched desperately for the panic button linked to his bed. After a few failed attempts, his hands finally closed around the panic button and he looked poised to press it.

So why wasn't he?

"Reveal yourself," he demanded. "Or I will call security!"

The poor boy sounded so indignant, he might actually do it.

"Dad, is that you? Because I swear to God-"

"It's okay," I broke in, putting the pansies at the foot of his bed. The nurturer in me had just noticed Edward's sheets were bunched at his hips, and his gown probably wasn't doing him any favors either. He was quite clearly freezing- so why wasn't he doing anything about it? My palms were soft but insistent as I gathered the sheets at his hipbone and dragged it a bit further up, until his arms and panic button were covered.

I wasn't feeling him up I swear, but I couldn't help but swoon a little, when the pads of my fingertips brushed against his goose-pimpled arm.

It was electric.

"I'm a nurse," I muttered, now running my fingers down his leg in pretense I was smoothing out wrinkles. My fingers played "_incy wincy spider" _along his calf, but the moment I reached his thigh my private parts went all tingly. I pretended my hand was an iron, and slid my hand up and up and-

"You sound too young to be nurse," he asked curiously when I blushed and took my hand away.

I told myself I was being stupid. He couldn't _see _if I was blushing, so why was I so embarrassed about it?

"Oh god, you're not a stalker are you?"

The abject terror in his voice made me scowl and step away. Especially when I found out he was faking it.

"Did anyone tell you, you're a pretentious little fuck?"

This was old terrority. Edward Cullen lent back (well as much as he could) and folded his arms with a smirk. "All the time. Everyday."

"Yeah," I said with spite. "It makes me wonder why a nice man like Dr Carlisle would ever want a son like you."

The moment I said it, I wanted to take it back. Tears welled up in my eyes as I mentally added _pathetic _to the long list of bitchiness I was already displaying. Because I was being pathetic- Edward calls me a stalker, which to be honest isn't the most vilest of insults, and I respond back with something worse. I delved into their family problems (which a while ago didn't I say I didn't want to be involved in?) and twisted it into something ugly, whilst my "victim" was both blind and lying in his sick bed.

No matter how rude he was, no matter how _pretentious- _I'd sunk to an all-time low with that comment.

I wanted to cry. Why wasn't _he _crying? Oh jesus, he's probably pushed his panic button by now, about twenty times over...

When I stepped outside, I was greeted with a kind of stunned silence as the nurses, all six of them, gazed at me slack-jawed as I brushed the back of my hand against my cheek. One of them started clapping, and then pretty soon all of them were, joint in an unanimous round of applause. I was stunned. Were they clapping the fact that I was a cold hearted bitch, who deserved to be burnt at the stake?

A tear escaped my fingers.

"Why?" I asked shakily. "Why are you clapping?" and then walked away quickly before they gave an answer.

**.**

**.**

* * *

**OH. MY. WORD. Boy, do I deliver ;)**

**Granted Bella is acting a bit of a witch (teehee, sub a "B" anyone?) but she's feeling terrible about it. Anyhoo, I'm not into the love-wuvvy mush anyway. This IS the start of a love story but this couple have a quite few hurdles to get over before they get there.**

**I will also now like to take the time, to _beg _for reviews. I don't feel it's right for me to put out chapters this length, if no-one's gonna reward me for it;)**

**So...PLEASE...review? It's free, I promise! **


End file.
